Moving On
by Half-BPrincess
Summary: The Final Battle had been much more vicious than anyone had expected, and the survivors, few that they were, banded together. Now, five years on can they face the next challenge of life? iMoving On/i
1. Time To Go

- Chapter 1 -

Time To Go

"Okay, deep breaths, Hermione; you can do this." Hermione sighed to herself, as she slowly lifted her head from her hands. "You _will_do this. You have to!" The index finger of her right hand absentmindedly rubbed at her nose, as she reread the letter in front of her. Her front teeth worried at her bottom lip, as she ran through the little speech she'd prepared for her boss. She was half-way through translating it into Mermish before a friendly face appeared in her office, and gently pulled the lip from in between her teeth.

"Nothing to worry about," the sandy-haired man told her. "There's nothing he can do, or say. It's all been sorted. You have the job there, you're leaving here. All you have to do is tell him that." Hermione sighed once more, before forcing her lips upwards into some semblance of a smile.

"I know, Tinny," Hermione paused, giving herself a moment to grin, and for her companion to grimace. "I just don't want him to hate me for leaving. God knows I've got it good here, but it's just not me."

"I know, Hermy," Justin paused, giving _himself_ a moment to grin, and his _companion_ to grimace. "It was always for the three of you to do. They wouldn't hold it against you for leaving. Hell, I'm sure they wouldn't have held it against you if you'd never joined up. But you did what _you_had to do to make peace with yourself. And now you're just doing what you need to do to move on with your life. This just isn't your thing, and frankly I'm not surprised. This has been your life; always fighting. You deserve more than that. You deserve to go back to where things were always good. Dawlish knows that. He won't like it, but he'll go with it."

"Thanks, Justin." Hermione reached over her desk, to grab onto his hand. "I needed that. You're right, I just don't want to leave you and Luna and Cho here alone, with no support." Justin's face twisted into a wry smile.

"We'll be fine. Just think how much better we are now. It's been five years, Hermione. We have to be fine. Plus, Ginny's just around the corner at St. Mungo's. If any of us go crazy it's a ten minute walk to go get sectioned." Hermione squeezed his hand, soothingly, instantly recognising his fear that the joke would become real.

"I know you'll be fine, Justin. I just can't heal with all this around me." Their clasped hands waved around the room. "And I think Neville might need some support too. He's got no one our age. I feel a bit bad that we left him with only Minerva and Filius there." Justin nodded his head in agreement.

"When are you meeting with Auror Dawlish then?" He released her hand and retreated into the chair behind her desk. He'd vented his fears, and she'd vented hers; it was now time to get back to business.

"Soon," she replied, settling back into her chair. "You should go, Justin. You have work to do. And I need to incorporate some bits of your motivational speech into my spiel for Dawlish." Justin smiled then, a warm, genuine smile that lit up his whole face. _I__'__m__glad__he__can__smile__like__that,_Hermione thought, _though__I__know__better__than__most__how__hard__he__worked__to__be__able__to__smile__like__that__again._

"Okay, Hermione. I'll let you plan in peace. At least you're not making me study plans anymore." For a moment, Hermione's throat constricted, and she felt her eyes begin to water, before she realised that it was Justin, on about their Auror training, rather than Ron or Harry, on about their Hogwarts days. Justin's pained expression showed that he already knew what she was thinking on, so she waved him off, trying her best not to let the teardrops spill. It wouldn't do for him to think he'd made her cry.

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and concentrated fiercely on her breathing. Once her heart had stopped pounding wildly, and her throat had loosened considerably, she allowed herself to pull a photo from her desk drawer. She smiled at the picture it showed. Her, Ron, and Harry, at Grimmauld place, just weeks before the Final Battle.

Harry was in the centre of the picture, his arms looped around the shoulders of his two best friends. His face glowed with joy, and with youth. Ron, too, was grinning, on Harry's right side, and Hermione herself smiled happily on the left. The real life Hermione stroked her fingers over the two-dimensional boys, before hugging the frame to her chest.

"I'm so sorry I left you!" She whispered. "I miss you so much…" She brought the picture up to her face and kissed each boy tenderly before sliding the photo back into its drawer. Hermione leant back in her chair, turning her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, before casting _Tempus._

After quickly gathering together two letters, one still sealed, the other slightly crumpled from the many times Hermione had perused it, she headed down the corridor to Dawlish's office. As she walked she passed many familiar faces, she smiled and waved at them all, pondering on how they had each changed.

There was Luna, of course. Where she had once been scatter-brained and almost dazed, she was now organised to the point of being annoying. If Luna had been a Muggle, Hermione was sure that she would have been diagnosed with OCD a long time ago, but the only Healer that cared was Ginny and she was still a fairly junior Healer so could do nothing about it.

Next came Cho Chang, who no longer cried at anything, a far change from the adolescent girl who'd once kissed Hermione's best friend whilst in tears. Cho hadn't even cried at the many funerals they'd all attended, or at any of the memorial services. Sometimes, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if Cho had ever really come to terms with the idea that the war was over, and that they were the only ones left standing.

Justin Finch-Fletchley, (who really should have been working, Hermione noted), had changed the least from an outsider's viewpoint. He still seemed to be the happy-go-lucky charming guy he'd been, and he always made sure to act as if nothing bothered him, but his friends knew better. His flat had more wards than the Minister of Magic's office, and he even bathed with a wand by his side.

Finally, Hermione stood in front of Head Auror Dawlish's office. She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open before she could touch it. Her boss sat lazily behind his desk, his feet kicked up, lounging back in his chair. His wand, however, was casually pointed at the door, and his eyes flicked almost nervously behind her until she closed the door.

Hermione slowly made her way towards the desk, and placed the sealed envelope next to his feet. Dawlish narrowed his eyes at it, and his feet edged back onto the floor as he sat forward, and prodded it with his wand.

"This is from you." It wasn't a question, but Hermione answered it anyway.

"Yes sir. I thought a letter would be more appropriate. Also, it is Ministry policy." Dawlish prodded at it once more, and it unfolded easily. His head bent over the desk, eyes scanning the information in front of him.

"You're leaving." Again, a statement that Hermione felt the need to respond to.

"Yes sir, I am."

"May I ask why?" Hermione paused to gather her wits, noticing that Dawlish's shoulders had sagged slightly, and his nonchalant air had all but disappeared.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't think I'll be able to continue here, Dawlish." Hermione stopped, and sighed before launching into the first part of my pre-planned speech. "I just don't feel that I belong here. It has been an eye-opening experience for me, but this isn't what I wanted to do in life, I think I'm only just realizing that."

"Bull shit." Dawlish nearly spat the words at her. "Don't give me one of your speeches, Granger. At least have the decency to explain to me why."

"I'm just done here." She slid gracefully into one of the several seats in front of Dawlish's desk, giving up on the speech. "I can't do it anymore. This isn't me. Why am I here, Dawlish?" The burly man didn't answer, although his hand reached up to scratch his head. "When I was twelve, I made two friends. We didn't know it back then, but that's when it all started. That's when we started to fight. I'm twenty three years old, Dawlish. And I can't remember a time when I didn't have to fight. And I fight damn well, I know that, and you know that. But I can't do it on my own."

"There are other Aurors with you, Granger." Dawlish's deep voice rumbled. Hermione couldn't help snorting.

"But they aren't who I want them to be. I would fight with you if Harry were here. I would fight with you if Ron were here. But they're not. And I just can't do this anymore." One of her hands reached back to lace through her hair, as she sniffed. "_This,__here,__now_was meant to be for _us_. But there's not an _us,_notanymore. I need to live my own life, Dawlish. I've spent the last five years living in the past, and grieving for those we lost. I've lived the life that they would have lived. And for now I fully intend to live my _own_life."

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" He asked, more to himself than to Hermione. "And I bet you've got a job lined up too." He smiled ruefully as she waved the crumpled letter in her left hand at him. "We'll never replace you, you know? No one fights like you. And - oh Merlin - what's gonna happen to your office? You practically run this place." He sighed, before looking up at her once more. "Good luck, Hermione."

"Not trying to change my mind, John?" She teased, giving him a warm smile.

"I'm not bloody stupid, girl." He laughed, a hearty sound. "It'd be easier to rearrange the whole department than change your mind. I hope your new bosses, whoever they may be, understand that." Hermione smirked as she caught the unasked question from the former Slytherin.

"Minerva does, yes."

"Hogwarts then? Nice, cushy job. No fighting there." His answering smirk proved the latest set of trainees wrong; John Dawlish _did_have a sense of humour.

"A little fighting." Hermione admitted, a self conscious blush creeping up her cheeks. "Defense Against the Dark Arts. And subbing for pretty much everybody."

"We'll miss you, Hermione." His smirk was gone, replaced with a sincerity that shone from his hazel eyes.

"Not if you promote Luna, you won't." She joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "God knows that girl deserves it. And it'll give her a little time outside of the field. You will lose her in a year or two though, probably to the Prophet."

"Hmmm," Dawlish considered. "Give me, say, six weeks. That'll give you time to prime her for the job."

"Three." She returned. Dawlish's mouth opened again, a smile on his face, but her raised hand stopped him. "Three weeks, no more. Even that'll be more than enough time for her to learn everything." The amusement in her voice somewhat tempered her reprimanding expression. Dawlish narrowed his eyes, and then nodded sharply.

"But you have to tell the Minister his favourite Auror's buggering off!" This was said with a large grin and a wink. _Finally,_Hermione thought. _I__can__tell__that__bastard__where__to__get__off!_

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"Hermione!" The cultured voice sounded out above the secretary's reedy squawks. "What brings you here today? Nothing bad, I hope? Do come in." He turned to the still protesting woman at the desk in front of him. "Now, now, Belinda, didn't I tell you all of the war heroes would always be welcome in my office?"

"You said they could always make appointments…" Belinda's nasal voice was cut off as Hermione entered the office. She narrowed her eyes at the doorway, and reached her hand out. _Silencing__charm__and__an__impervious__too,_she thought to herself. The Minister followed her in, closing the door behind him.

"I swear that whoever works in personnel and sent me _her_ as a secretary hates me." He confessed, leaning up against the door. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure, my dearest Hermione? Decided to take me up on that offer of dinner yet?" He smiled at her, in a manner he obviously thought was charming, but merely looked slimy.

"I've told you before, Minister, that you may address me as Auror Granger. There is no place for such familiarity in the workplace, as I'm sure you'll agree."

"Ah, but what are names between friends?" He smiled, revealing a set of charmed-white teeth.

"Nothing, Minister. But your logic assumes that we are friends." Hermione countered.

"Are we not?" The Minister looked downright down-heartened. Hermione inwardly sniggered.

"No, Minister, we are not."

"Oh." He frowned. "What brings you here then, Miss Granger? It can't be another budget problem, can it? I thought I'd had all of those sorted…?"

"It's Auror Granger, Minister, not Miss Granger. I am not an errant schoolgirl." Hermione glared at him coldly. "Auror Dawlish thought that you should hear my good news directly from me. After all, it wouldn't do for the Minister of Magic to be the last to know, would it?"

"In that case, I'll have to send him my thanks for allowing me to stay on top of business." His voice was pitched low, and there was a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And I thought I told you that you simply must call me Cornelius, dear. Minister makes me feel like such a bore."

"I'm sure you did, _Minister._But I'm not sure you'll thank Auror Dawlish for this message, Minister," Hermione told him solemnly. "You see, he thought you might like to know that I'm resigning."

"But you can't be resigning! How will the Auror department function without you? And we need you here! What will the public think? They'll lose faith in the Ministry. You simply must stay!" He affected what Hermione called the 'puppy-dog' look. _More__pity__you,__Fudge,_she thought to herself. _I__hate__dogs._"Oh no, I know what it is!" His sad face moulded seamlessly back into his 'charming' grin. "You're leaving so you can accept the original position I approached you about, as my personal advisor! This is simply marvellous!"

"Actually Minister, I think not. But, Minister, now that you mention it, I did want to take this opportunity to 'advise' you of my true feelings for you…" Hermione began, with a coy smile. "You see, I think you're a complete and utter fool."

"Excuse me?" The smile shrank a little. "Are you sure you meant to say…"

"And don't think that none of us know how you try to use us to curry favour with the public. And, I tell you now, that none of us will stand for it. I know full well about the letters that you send to Healer Weasley too, and if you're not careful some of them might just find their way into the Prophet. But I'm not here to speak about that, Minister. I'm here to warn you. If you attempt to take liberties with Luna, or Cho, or any other 'war heroes', you will find yourself on the wrong end of my wand. And don't think that I won't use any number of the curses that I did in the war, forgivable or otherwise. Understood?" By this point Hermione was standing, one hand leaning forwards on the desk, the other holding her wand pressing into his throat.

"Understood!" Fudge squeaked. Hermione smiled as she walked away. _Ha,_she thought triumphantly. _The__little__bastard__looks__like__he__'__s__about__to__wet__himself!_

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"Oh, Hermione I can't believe you're leaving!" Luna wailed. "I'll never be as good as you, I don't know half of what I should, I'm sure!" Hermione rolled her eyes, as another wave of her wand sent the last of her belongings into a box at her feet.

"Luna, you'll be fine. And if you come across any problems, make it up as you go! That's what I did. Let's face it, I _created_this job, it's first generation. You can easily improve on some of my methods." Hermione nearly smirked to herself; she had made sure to teach Luna some slightly inefficient methods that the girl could refine. _Damn,__I__'__ve__spent__too__much__time__round__Dawlish__'__s__damn__Slytherin__methodology._ "And if you're that lost, I'm only an owl away. Hogwarts isn't far."

"You'll come visit me?" Luna eyes opened wide. "There's not many people around I can talk about… _you__know_… with. Not anymore. And you'll have Neville right there!"

"Just like you have Justin right here. And Cho." Hermione parried Luna's worries away with ease.

"But they weren't _there,_ not like we were." Luna sighed bitterly. "I _know_ that they fought, and I know that they lost people too, but it was always different for them! They were all on the edges of the battle, not head on with the Lestranges!"

"I know, Luna. But they _were_there, and they _did_fight, and it's up to you to help support them now. It's up to all of you to support each other. We have to learn to live on our own two feet, or else we'll never _do_anything ever again. That's why I need to go." Her wand flicked, and the boxes shrunk before floating into an open trunk. "Plus, Ginny's just around the corner too. She was in the thick of it just as much as we were."

Luna suddenly shifted forward and wrapped her arms around the older girl. Her face nuzzled into the crook of Hermione's neck, as it had done many times before. Hermione rubbed soothing circles onto Luna's back, resting her head gently on the blonde girl's.

"What if we never get better?" She asked quietly. "What if we're always broken?"

"Then we'll be broken together." Hermione promised, eyes showing her sincerity.

"Do you have to go?" Luna untangled her arms, and looked up petulantly. "You could still change your mind…?"

"Luna, you know this has never been me. This is what the boys wanted us to do. And we would have been happy. But it was always something we would do _together._And I need to reassert my own self. Plus, Neville has been alone far too long. I know we see him at Hogsmeade weekends, and the holidays, but two years is a long time without proper support." Luna nodded in sympathy, before launching herself at her friend once more giving a rib-breaking hug.

"Write often, Hermione. We all need you."


	2. Back To The Memories

- Chapter 2 -

Back To The Memories

Hermione stood unmoving just inside the gates to Hogwarts. She stared forlornly around at the grounds. She bowed her head, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a few deep shuddering breaths. Hogwarts was the home of many fond memories for Hermione, after all, she'd spent much of her life there, six and a half years, in fact.

She raised her head, and forced herself to look at the grounds. A tree by the lake that she and the boys had studied under, or at least she had studied whilst they had pretended. The Whomping Willow, and all the chaos from their third year reappeared in Hermione's mind. There was the Black Lake, which she had levitated the boys into every summer, excepting their last. To her left she could see what she had once referred to as 'Hagrid's Hut'. There was the Quidditch pitch in the distance, and nearly seven years of Quidditch matches brought a smile to her face. Hermione chuckled to herself as she reminisced on the real-rock rock cakes, and the tea-with-added-tar. These were some of the memories she'd come back to Hogwarts for.

And then there were the reasons she'd only lasted six and a half years at the school. The memories of Hogwarts which were the basis of most of her nightmares. There was that same tree by the lake, but with a noose hung from it. The unseeing eyes of Zacharias Smith as he swung by his neck. There was the Whomping Willow, splattered with the brains of the Patil twins, Padma and Parvati. There was the Black Lake, the water's surface barely visible for the bodies that swarmed it; Hogwarts students, Order members and Death Eaters all left for the squid. Hagrid's hut in flames, the horrifying smell of burning flesh, and the chilling screams of the fighters trapped within. And then there was the Quidditch pitch… But no, she wasn't ready to face those memories just yet.

Hermione took another deep breath, and began her long walk to the front entrance of Hogwarts. It was hard for her to believe that it had only been two days since she'd left the Aurory for good (although Dawlish had promised her a job in perpetuity, and hired her as a dark artefact consultant). It felt like the end of an era for Hermione; after more than ten years of fighting for survival, she could finally relax.

Before she knew it, Hermione was facing the large oaken doors that led into the school. Most people would have to be escorted past the closed doors by one of a select group of staff… or a founder. Technically, all of the survivors of the Final Battle were given founder status when they had repaired the school. It had taken a lot from them magically, most were laid up in bed for several days after the original ritual had commenced. Thanks to this, the castle recognised all of them, and would always recognise their descendants too.

Hermione placed the palm of her hand on the left hand door, which obligingly swung open for her. A murmured incantation and it closed behind her. Hermione raised her head, to look up at the ceiling of the Entrance Hall. When she had been a school girl, she had loved the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, but when they had repaired the school, images had appeared in the Entrance Hall. Where before the four founders had been displayed, those who fought for Hogwarts were pictured. Above her she could see all of the faces of the men, women and children who had fought, those still living, and those now lost.

There was Harry, at the head of the crowd, flanked by Ron, and by her. Behind Ron stood Luna, behind Hermione was Ginny. There was Pansy Parkinson, the only Slytherin bar Snape to fight for their side. In the mural she and her head of house smiled at each other. Dumbledore had a hand on Harry's shoulder. Hermione's eyes searched out other familiar faces. Padma and Parvati, Lavender, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot, Hagrid, the Creevey brothers, the entire Weasley clan… And there were others too, that hadn't died in the Final Battle, but had done the Light great services, or dealt the Dark harsh blows. James and Lily Potter, who stood next to Snape, and Sirius reconciled with his brother, Regulus.

"It changes, you know?" Hermione was ducked down on the floor with her wand pointed at the owner of the voice before she had even registered who she was looking at.

"Neville!" Hermione sighed in relief, and ran towards her friend. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Don't worry about it." Neville put his strong arms out, and as Hermione reached him he spun her in circles until she cried at him to stop. "It'll be good to have you here, Hermione." He smiled down at her beatifically.

"It's good to be here too, I think." She stepped back away from him, and looked him up and down. "Why Neville, I do think you've been holding back on us! Look at those muscles! Why on earth would you hide them when you come to see us?" Neville tilted his head, and looked down at her sadly as her smile faltered.

"I know. It's hard. I was a wreck for the whole summer when I first came back." Once more he opened his arms to her, but this time she collapsed into them, burying her face into his chest for a few minutes. When she resurfaced Neville gave her another soft smile. "I meant it when I said it changes, you know?" He gestured to the ceiling. "Never when you look at it, but it changes. Doesn't it look different from all of the ceremonies? I figured it out, they're in rank order then, but most of the time they're not. I like to think they move towards their friends, or their families."

Hermione raised her eyes again and smiled up at her lost friends. When she lowered her face her eyes had hardened once more.

"Time to cope." She whispered to Neville, before a sunny smile appeared on her lips. "Now, you fancy walking me to Minerva's office?" Neville deftly tucked her arm into his, and led her on the familiar route through the castle.

"You know, Hermione, you don't know how glad I really am to have you here…" Hermione began to interrupt, but was stopped by Neville's finger on her lips, and a cheeky grin. "… well, at least not until you're forced to endure Minerva's 'staff fun'. Apparently, while she was a teacher life was unbearably boring, so now we have lots of 'bonding fun'. Usually me and Filius try to get as drunk as possible, you can join in with us. Or perhaps you can figure out a way to get out of it."

"What sort of fun?" Hermione asked curiously, hoping to Merlin it was alcohol.

"Well, last year Minerva rather liked betting." Neville mused. "And the year before she fancied Muggle party games. I think this year is likely to be magical in nature, at least. You should have seen Filius trying Muggle chess, he couldn't figure out how to make the pieces move, he was that drunk!" Hermione giggled into her hand, desperately trying to wipe the smirk from her face as they reached the gargoyle.

"Severus Tobias Snape." Neville said clearly, turning back apologetically to Hermione. "She sets the passwords to people who fought with us. You know, sometimes I don't think they're any more healed than we are." Hermione smiled then, a soft, sad smile.

"I don't think so either. Not even from the first war, that I can tell." She confided. "But now's not the time to bring it up, Neville. Now's the time to smile and lie."

"I'll talk to you later then, Hermione." Neville hugged her gently again. "If I'm not in my rooms, I'll be in the greenhouses."

"You come and find mine, instead!" Hermione teased, giggling slightly. And with Hermione's terrible flirtation came her 'happy face' plastered back on again, and she stepped onto the revolving stairs.

"Minerva!" She cried with false glee as she entered the office. "It's been too long! How have you been?"

"Really, Hermione, it's only been three weeks," the elder woman chided, a small smile gracing her face. "I, as you can see, am in perfect health. And you, my dear?"

"I'm just glad to be back here, it feels like coming home, in a way." Hermione settled herself into a chair across from the Headmistress, on the other side of her desk. "And how is our wonderful castle?"

"The castle is well, there have been no collapses, no breakages. I think, however, it has been feeling a little lonesome without the children. It seems very happy today though, no doubt as you are here." McGonagall smiled. "And whilst we're on the subject of the castle, I should show you to your rooms. They're midway between your classroom and Gryffindor Tower, I thought you'd want to be near to your cubs, seeing as you'll be taking them over from Neville." The elderly woman stood, and gestured for Hermione to follow as they headed towards Gryffindor Tower, still babbling on. "Bless his heart, he did try, but what with all his extra duties it was such a strain on the poor boy."

"Extra duties?" Hermione asked confusedly. "But didn't Professor Sprout manage the greenhouses, and Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, one being the difference in students; Hufflepuff students tend to be the least troublesome. For the first few weeks they get terribly upset about missing their families, but then they're usually right as rain for the rest of the year. You have several prominent Gryffindor pranksters, I must inform you."

"Oh dear," Hermione frowned slightly. "Just tell me I won't have to deal with the reincarnation of Fred and George, please?" She implored her mentor, jokingly.

"Oh, no, dear. You have two groups that are constantly trying to outdo each other. But going back to Neville's duties, he is also trying to restore the forest, along with some help from Nestor Scamander, the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor, I don't think you've met him yet. There are still some areas of the forest that need a lot of re-growth, and many of the creatures avoid other parts, due to the dark magic used there." The headmistress paused, dabbing gently at her eyes with a conjured handkerchief. "Perhaps one day Hogwarts will be as it once was. One day."

"No, Minerva," Hermione interjected. "Hogwarts will never be the same, nor should we wish that it was. All around us, across the castle and grounds, men and women and children died to save this place, and their sacrifices are what will make Hogwarts better than it ever was. We will make sure of that, Minerva, or we will die trying, and pass on the baton."

"What a beautiful sentiment, Hermione." Minerva smiled gently, before brusquely walking up to a portrait of an aged witch, who raised her chin at the sight of Hermione.

"So, you are to be the new Defence teacher? I should hope you will be up to the challenge, they still haven't been able to shake that damn curse, but I'm sure you can do it! We women are stronger than those bastard men give us credit for!" The woman looked as if she were to continue, but Minerva spoke first.

"That will be quite enough, Artemisia," she began, ignoring Hermione's ill concealed gasp. "This is Hermione Granger, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts _Professor,_and one of the newer school founders. I'm sure that you two will get along."

"You're Artemisia Lufkin!" Hermione looked on at the painting in reverence. "I'm honoured to make your acquaintance, you were one of my idols as a young witch. I'd love to hear all about your election campaign, at some point; I've always been interested in how you overcame the sexist views at that time." The woman in the portrait's chin raised even higher, but Artemisia smiled at Hermione.

"That sounds like an excellent plan, Professor, although I'm sure our Headmistress could also enlighten you, as she was the last person to ask about my time as Minister. For now, however, you must set a password, and I would advise you to set wards too; it wouldn't do for anybody to be able to enter without your permission, and such forth."

"What a wonderful suggestion, Artemisia," Minerva said, smile now firmly ensconced on her face. "I was just about to suggest the same thing. Now, Hermione, you need a good password. Any ideas?"

"Hmm, nothing too obvious I suppose…" Hermione pondered for a few moments, before an idea came to mind. "Or how about something _very_obvious? My password will be _Alohomora.__" _Minerva pursed her lips, but the portrait chuckled heartily.

"Oh brilliant, dear. Are you sure you're a Gryffindor? That's terribly Slytherin thinking. Completely un-guessable." She was still chuckling as she opened up to let Hermione and Minerva enter.

"Oooh!" Hermione cooed appreciatively at her rooms. "I had this horrible feeling they'd be red and gold!" Minerva smiled, and chuckled slightly.

"I thought you might appreciate a change in the décor, I spent several years surrounded by our House colours, before I managed to take off all of Albus' spells preventing transfigurations." She shook her head ruefully. "Yours have no such enchantments, I wasn't sure which colours or styles you would prefer, so I've given you a choice. Currently, it's been decorated in the same style that you decked out your Head Girl's room in, as best as the elves and I could remember it."

"It's amazing, Minerva!" Hermione sprang forwards to stroke one of the soft, tasselled cushions on the sofa. "Thank you!"

"It's nothing, Hermione. If I had my way, none of you young ones would have ever left here." Hermione froze, eyes flicking upwards at the Headmistress. For a moment the young Professor thought that her mentor was about to cry, but the elder woman merely took a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I am but an old woman who wishes to see her friends again. Don't mind my sentimentality. I will see you in the Great Hall for dinner this evening." With that, the headmistress swept out of the room, the swirling of her cloak rivalling that of the late Severus Snape.

The young woman left in the room sighed to herself, before she pulled several trunks out of her pockets and began to systematically enlarge each of them.


	3. The Survivors

- Chapter 3 -

The Survivors

Three days had passed since Minerva's near breakdown, and while the subject had been studiously avoided in each other's company, the matter had been most thoroughly discussed by Hermione and Neville. Neville was very much in favour of inviting Minerva and Filius, Hermione wasn't so sure.

"But how would we run the sessions then, Neville? I only run it because I'm the eldest, but if either of those are in the state that we were at first it wouldn't be at all practical for them to lead!" Hermione ran a hand wearily through her curls. Neville ducked his head sheepishly and looked up through his eyelashes at her. "What don't I know?" Hermione asked candidly.

"Well, we wouldn't have agreed to the eldest being in charge if you weren't the eldest. We'd probably have gone for the most bushy haired, or something." He joked weakly. "You were the only one who _could_ lead us. Who _else_ was there?

"You knew exactly what it was like for all of us. You were the only one who'd be able to reach everyone. To know how Cho was feeling after her time with Macnair, to know what Justin felt when Zach died in front of him, to be scared out of your mind in the middle of the battle. How to deal with curse scars like Luna's…" Neville gently took her hands in his own. "There was nobody else who could do any of that, Hermione. Nobody else that we could ever trust to get us through things. Nobody else _I_could trust. Nobody else who would stand up for us. Nobody else who would research therapy like you. There never was any choice about it, you were the only viable option on so many levels, and you still are." Hermione bit her bottom lip.

"So you want me to invite them?" She sighed at Neville's answering nod. "Okay, fine. I'll ask them after the staff meeting this afternoon, but you're coming with me!"

"Of course, milady." Neville mock bowed and stiffly offered his arm. "It's afternoon already, you've worked through lunch again. Staff meeting in twenty minutes." Hermione glared at him as she threaded her arm through his.

"You know Neville, I do wonder if the Sorting Hat shouldn't have placed you in Slytherin, sometimes." Neville merely winked in response, leading her through the castle to the staff room.

Hermione and Neville seated themselves next to Filius at the large table, being among the first to arrive. Gradually the room began to fill with Professors that Filius and Neville introduced Hermione to.

"This is Professor Scamander, Care of Magical Creatures. Neston, I'm proud to introduce my good friend Professor Granger, she's got Defence." Neville began, as the tall wiry man held out a hand for Hermione to shake.

"Pleased to meet you Professor Scamander," Hermione said. "It's an honour, I've read all of your father's books, of course."

"Call me Neston." The man said in a very deep voice. "And the honour is all mine, Professor Granger, the longer I spend at Hogwarts the more war heroes I seem to meet." Hermione blushed prettily.

"And you must call me Hermione." She replied, but before she could say any more, Filius had her by the elbow, and had dragged her across the room to a wide eyed oriental woman in a beautiful blue cloak with embroidered dragons across it.

"Professor Granger, this is Professor Li. Professor Li, Professor Granger." The two women shook hands amicably.

"Call me Hermione," Hermione said. "What are you teaching?"

"Call me Sapphire," Professor Li returned. "Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, though I'm a better Arithmancer than translator, I have my Mastership in Arithmancy. What about yourself?"

"Defence." Hermione said simply. "I love Arithmancy, although I haven't had a chance to use it much since the war. I wonder if you'd mind giving my second years a demonstration of Arithmancy for defensive purposes? I had planned to do so myself, but to have a Master of Arithmancy show them would be amazing."

"We'll run through our schedules together then, perhaps? Find a suitable time and discuss what you'd like for them to see?" Hermione nodded, but had to cut her reply short when Minerva stood at the head of the table.

"After dinner tonight in here, perhaps?" At Sapphire's nod Hermione allowed Filius to propel her back to her seat next to him. All of the other teachers had caught on and were seating themselves too, after a minute or so Minerva began to speak.

"Good day, all," she began, before frowning slightly. "Well, nearly all. I'm sure our illustrious Potions Master will surface at some point." Hermione looked questioningly at Neville, but he shook his head at her and mouthed the word 'later'. "I would like to welcome you to a new school year at Hogwarts. I'm glad to see you all mixing in together well, for those of you that haven't met her, I'd like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Auror Hermione Granger." Hermione smiled, and blushed again, ducking her head slightly. "As we have a new member of staff, I thought it would be pertinent for everyone to introduce themselves. I want you to give your name, the subject you're teaching, how long you've been teaching here and one interesting fact about yourself. I'll start and then we'll go clockwise around the room. Oh, and don't forget your house, if you please.

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, I am headmistress although I have previously taught Transfigurations, I have taught here for forty seven years, and I am an animagus who can transform into a cat. I am also a Gryffindor teacher." Minerva looked pointedly at the dark haired man to her left.

"I'm Maximus Brankovitch," he drawled in an obvious American accent. "I teach Art and Flying Skills, I'm the Head of Slytherin House and my interesting fact is that I was a professional Quidditch Seeker, and captained my own team. I've been here five years."

"My name is Cosette Soin," A pretty fair-haired woman said. "I am also a Slytherin tutor, and I am the Mediwitch here. My interesting fact is that I speak no English at all, this is a translation spell, I am really speaking French. This is my second year."

This trend continued around the entire table, eventually reaching Hermione, who stood, as the others had and began to speak.

"My name is Hermione Granger, I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, I'm also the Gryffindor Head of House. I was previously a Ministry Auror, but have always wanted to teach."

"Interesting fact!" Minerva commanded from her left. "Before I start talking about your schooldays!"

"I… erm… I…" Hermione sighed dejectedly. "When I and my friends were at Hogwarts, we systematically broke every rule in place at the time, and probably influenced a few of the ones in place now." Hearing a shocked gasp, Hermione turned sympathetically to the Headmistress. "Sorry, Minerva, I guess I didn't really get round to telling you that. Although I am glad that I can't now get detentions for all of those broken rules." Hermione sat down amongst a mostly silent room, although next to her Neville was sniggering, and Maximus, the Slytherin Head was smiling and eying her speculatively.

"Well, after that wonderful revelation," Minerva stood as she began to speak. "We must get down to business…"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

A full hour later Minerva had finished with all business pertaining to the school and had dismissed the majority of the staff. There were only four Professors left in the Staff Room; Minerva, Filius, Neville and Hermione.

"Well, Hermione, Neville, I'm sure you had some ulterior motive in asking Filius and I to stay for tea." Minerva said as she sipped at the aforementioned beverage. "Spit it out, one of you!" Hermione looked helplessly at Neville, who merely grinned and quirked his eyebrow at her slightly.

"Well, Neville and I have a proposal for you," Hermione began. "Every couple of weeks, a few of us get together, and we wanted you two to join us, if you can." Hermione was chewing her lip again, Neville leaned over her to gently tug it out.

"I don't know about Minerva, but I think I would feel bad impeding you youngsters from having your fun. It's very kind of you to invite us, but I doubt we have the same sort of tastes in entertainment…" Filius was interrupted by Hermione's vehement protests.

"No, Filius, it's not like that! We're like a support group for each other. There's not many of us, we usually rent a room from Rosmerta's, or the Hog's Head, and talk about things that nobody else really understands. There's really not many of us, only the six. Me, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Cho and Justin." She explained.

"The survivors…" Filius sat back into his chair, and raised his face to the ceiling. Hermione would have sworn she saw tears glistening in the old Professor's eyes.

"Miss Granger, I can assure you that myself and Filius have been coping well. It has been five years, we have moved on." Professor McGonagall sat stiffly. If she'd been in cat form, Hermione would have bet her back would have been arched.

"Oh Minerva," she said gently. "I don't think we'll ever move on." And then it happened, Minerva crumpled. Her head drooped slightly, and she raised a delicate hand to dab at her eyes.

"We'll come." Filius said decisively. "Just tell us where and when, we can arrange the schedules around the meetings, though we'll have to keep changing the times of things…" He drifted off, not really thinking about patrol schedules but not really thinking about the meetings either. Hermione exchanged nervous glances with Neville.

He opened his mouth to speak to the two elder Professors, but was stopped as the door flew open and a man wearing billowing black robes stormed in.

"What is the meaning of sending house-elves to bring me here, Minerva?" He asked haughtily. "I am perfectly capable of getting myself to the staff meeting. As you can see, most of the staff haven't even arrived yet!"

"Actually, Professor Malfoy, they've been and gone." Neville looked up steadily at the blond man. "It's four thirty now, you're an hour and a half late. I can give you the minutes I took, if you…"

"Oh. Whoops. Thank you, Professor Longbottom." He frowned slightly. "I'd best be off then. I have a potion to finish. If you would be so kind as to copy the notes and bring them at dinner, Professor Longbottom?" Neville nodded slightly, and the other man whirled round and exited the room.

Hermione blinked in shock. Surely that irritable Potions Master couldn't have been Draco Malfoy, the bane of their schooldays? She hadn't even known he'd survived the war. His attitude had been reminiscent of Snape at the height of the Wizarding War, not that of the spoiled brat she was accustomed to. _Although,_ she mused, _the__billowing__cloak__does__suit__him__some._

"Insufferable man," Minerva snapped waspishly at the now-closed door. When Hermione looked back at her, Minerva was as stony faced as ever. "Hermione, if you will inform Filius and I of your meeting times, we will attend. Now, I simply must be off, I have much to do." Filius followed the headmistress as she swept off out of the staffroom.

"At least they're coming," Neville said soothingly, moving to put an arm round his friend. "They can talk through things with all of us."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

They had set the first meeting for the final Saturday before the students would arrive and, due to the fact there were now _four_Hogwarts Professors involved, they held the meeting in a small room above the Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade. Hermione had sat them all in a circle, and as she struggled to think of the speech she had planned they all stared at her.

"Hey everybody. Seeing as we have two new additions, I want to start by all of us giving the reasons that we're here. Anybody want to go first, or shall I?" Hermione was relieved when Ginny raised a tentative hand.

"I'll go, Hermione," she said, unconsciously straightening her back and raising her chin. "When we first came up with the idea of a support group I was all for it. Because that's what I need, what I've always needed, support. When we were on that battlefield, I was scared, more scared than I've ever been. I nearly died, and when I woke up afterwards and I found out how many people were dead, I wished I had died. I got obsessive over _how_everybody died. We all knew what had happened to Harry, to some extent, but nobody could tell me what had happened to Bill, or to Charlie. Nobody could understand what the twins had done, or had been done to them. Since I've been coming here, we decided to launch enquiries into each death. At St. Mungo's we now do autopsies of a sort, and we listed each and every death, and manner of death, for the families. Neville, you next?" Neville nodded.

"I don't know how to say things half as elegantly as Ginny says them, but pretty much everything she said is true for me too. Except that I didn't have to wake up and find out everybody was dead. I was still standing at the end of the battle, and I helped to check all of the bodies for signs of life, and then I helped to move the bodies. I still have nightmares about the faces; little Colin Creevey still had his camera around his neck, Susan and Terry and…" His voice trailed off for a moment, and he took a deep breath. "And my girlfriend, Hannah." Neville sat down abruptly, Luna on his other side taking up the mantle of storyteller.

"Most everyone can see the problem that I've faced." She said, and then smiled slightly. "Or not, thanks to Hermione's help. _Finite__Incantem._" The perfect porcelain skin on the left side of her face faded away to leave a jagged scar across her cheek. "I like being able to hide it. It's better than it was before, Hermione and Justin helped me to find some Muggle things to help my scar, and I might have Muggle plastic surgery. It seems like such a stupid thing, but it was always a sign of how badly I'd done. Nobody would look at me the same way, I was always the 'real victim' of the war. Like nobody had died, like they weren't the victims. I cope much better with it now though. I'm not sure if I want to get rid of it because it's like a badge of honour, in a way."

"Nobody else really understood why I found it so hard," the voice of Cho Chang filled the silence. "After all, I was barely even in the battle. I was captured, only hours into the fighting. Nobody really knows what Walden Macnair was like. Nobody living spent much time with him. Apart from me. The battle went on for the better part of three days. I was with Macnair for most of that. He… he used… the Imperius curse on me. To make me… do things. And I fought against it as hard as I could, but it took me two whole days to break out. I don't have any scars, and I didn't see anybody fall, but sometimes I think that might have been easier. I hate myself for wishing that, but I do." Ginny, sitting next to Cho, put a comforting arm around the girl, who lay her head on Ginny's shoulder.

"Me next, I guess." Justin jumped to his feet, an easy smile on his face. "Well…"

"Tinny, let it out." Hermione said gently. "It's okay, you're with us. No judging." Justin's smile loosened into a wry grimace.

"You know I hate that name," he pouted. "Just like you know I can't help trying." Justin turned his eyes to the rest of the group. "When I was fighting in the battle, I saw my best friend die in front of me. Die for me. Zach put himself in front of a curse meant for me, and I guess I'm still trying to come to terms with that fact. For a long time after the war, I wouldn't let anyone get close to me, in case they would do what Zach did. I felt like the war was still happening. Sometimes I still do. I wake up at night, and I think I'm waking up on the battlefield again. Hermione can tell you how strongly my place is warded, I'm sure." Everybody looked over at Hermione for confirmation.

"Tighter than the Minister's office. If you ever need the Hogwarts wards tweaked, I'd suggest Justin for the job, Minerva. He has more warding skills than anyone I've ever met." Hermione said with a soft smile. Justin merely smirked at her.

"Apart from the woman who taught me all of the wards, to ease my nightmares." He told the group, who all smiled genuinely, although Neville did roll his eyes at Hermione's blush

"You'd think you'd get used to praise, but you never do, do you?" Hermione just ducked her head to one side, and coloured further.

"It's my turn now, I guess." Hermione avoided Neville's smirk as she stood up. "Part of the reason that I found things difficult after the war was that I didn't expect to survive. After all, who would the Death Eaters curse? Harry? No, he was to be left for Voldemort. Ron? Why harm a Pureblood? What was I? Just the Mudblood bint who was everything that they said I shouldn't be. And then, when the dust settled, I was glorified. We were all glorified, but I've never coped well with attention. I had reporters on my doorstep constantly wanting an interview with me. I was the lover of Harry Potter. I was the lover of Ron Weasley. I was the one who really defeated Voldemort. I was really a Death Eater. There was even one article that claimed I was a House Elf.

"That was a really hard time for me. I think it was a hard time for us all. We just wanted to grieve for everyone we'd lost, yet at the same time we were expected to turn up to balls since Voldemort was dead. There were a lot of men that threw themselves at me. Some of them were nice and kind and handsome and brilliant - but I couldn't even look at any of them, because I knew that all of them were cowards. Neville and Justin were brilliant; they introduced me to people who couldn't have fought. Some were busy protecting their families. One man, a Ministry worker in the Portkey office was sending Portkeys to Muggle-borns. It's still hard though, every time I speak to someone, I want to scream at them, and shout at them. Maybe if they had been there then our friends wouldn't be dead." Hermione sat down slowly, completely aware of Filius and Minerva's nervous glances at each other.

"It's okay, Minerva, Filius. We won't ask you to share this time. We just want you to know that we are here for you, and that we won't judge you. When you're ready to talk, we're here, and chances are that we've felt, or are feeling what you feel." Hermione said gently, looking directly at them. "You are both one of us. You're both survivors."

"Now, who has anything they'd like to say this month?" Hermione turned to the rest of the circle. "Anything gotten better? Anything gotten worse?"


	4. Back To School

- Chapter 4 -

Back To School

Hermione sat at her place at the Head Table, eagerly awaiting the first Sorting she would attend as a Professor. To her right sat Minerva, and to her left was Maximus Brankovitch, the Flying Instructor and Slytherin Head of House. None of the students had arrived yet, however all of the staff were seated, ready for their arrival. She turned to Maximus next to her, as Minerva was busy going over her welcoming speech again.

"Professor Brankovitch," she queried gently, "I've been meaning to ask you for some advice." He smiled encouragingly at her.

"Well then why didn't you? My office, and rooms are always open to beautiful women such as yourself. Call me Maximus, by the way" He teased her.

"You might as well live on the Quidditch field, Maximus." Hermione returned. "To speak with you I would have had to get on a broom and catch you first. You're an amazing flyer though, I watched you a couple of times from a window."

"Ah, I'm not what I used to be." Maximus smiled wryly. "Do you fly much, Professor Granger?"

"_Hermione._ And no, I don't fly much. It's never been a strength of mine." She ducked her head as a blush crept across her face.

"Perhaps I could teach you sometime?" Maximus offered, a charming smile on his face. "I promise to catch you if you fall," Hermione blushed prettily across her cheeks, and her head dipped slightly.

"Anyone would think you to be flirting with me, Maximus," she smiled.

"And anyone would be right, Hermione." Before Hermione could think of an appropriate response, the first trickle of students appeared in the hall, and the time for banter was past.

Hermione noted despondently that the two eldest years of her house were fairly sparsely populated. Several seventh years she had tutored during her sixth year smiled and waved at her, obviously assuming she was a 'guest'. Hermione smiled back at them tightly, nodding her head whilst inwardly seeing how many names she could remember.

There was Euan Abercrombie, who'd struggled with Transfigurations, and next to him sat Melissa Paul who had been a regular Neville when it came to Potions. Across from them sat Derrick Lopes and Nellie Verns who she vaguely remembered had sat with friends that she had tutored. Her eyes couldn't help but to look at the seats around them that should have been filled by students such as Johnathon Gorley and Frieda Betty, Bethany Degbert and Lucy Farmer. She turned her face to the enchanted ceiling to prevent the tears from falling.

A hand on her arm startled her from her reverie, causing her whole head to jerk towards the arm, her hand still reaching for her wand. It took a moment for her to remember that the man she was looking at was just Maximus, just a Professor at Hogwarts. Someone safe.

"They're in a better place, you know?" He said softly. "Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff escaped pretty well, but you should have seen Gryffindor and Slytherin when I first came here, right after the war. I shed a tear or three for the state of the kids. Most of the ones left are better these days, though I would suggest carrying three handkerchiefs at least." He paused, before leaning in closely. "Just be glad you're not a Hufflepuff tutor. I think that half of Professor Chittock's body weight is handkerchiefs."

As Hermione opened her mouth to respond to the pithy comment, a hush came across the Great Hall, and every Professor stood. Maximus gracefully covered for her slow rise, graciously pulling out her chair for her, and offering his hand. On Hermione's right, Minerva smiled at them warmly, glad to see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin together.

Filius entered the room, a long trail of first-years lined up behind him. The professors sat as the last student entered. Maximus leaned over to her, and pointed at the third boy in line, who seemed to be dancing about, and poking the girl in front of him.

"Bet he's one of yours." He whispered softly. Hermione glared at him, before pointing at the girl being poked.

"Bet she's one of yours, look!" Even as she said it, the girl raised her foot, and stepped backwards onto the boy's foot without looking. A small smirk graced her face. Maximus grinned.

"Well then, the first one's a Hufflepuff. See how nervous she is?" They played their guessing game for the entire sorting, getting a disturbingly high percentage right, although they had disagreed on several students. One bookish-looking girl Maximus had been sure would be put into Ravenclaw, Hermione had thought would most definitely become a Gryffindor. When she was sorted into Hufflepuff, both of them had to struggle not to giggle.

All too soon, the sorting had finished, and the plates had all been scraped clean. Hermione was shocked at how the time had flown; she had enjoyed a long conversation with Maximus, and had had a few words with the Headmistress too. The room seemed to turn as one to look at the Headmistress, waiting for the customary Welcoming speech. True to form, Minerva stood, and tapped her wand to her throat.

"_Sonorous,__"_ she whispered. "Welcome, welcome all of you to Hogwarts! I welcome old hands and new friends, staff and students alike. I would first like to introduce a new member of staff here, Madam Soin, our mediwitch. Madam Soin was previously Senior Mediwitch at a facility in France, so I am sure that she will be able to put us all to rights." There was a smattering of polite applause, but Hermione could see several faces pointed her way which held curious expressions.

"Thank you. I would now like to introduce an old hand that most of you should know. Some of you elder students may have been tutored by her in your younger years, and even more of you will have read of her, and heard of her exploits. May I present Professor Granger, who…" A spontaneous round of applause cut off Minerva's words, and Hermione felt tears prick at her eyes when she saw even the Slytherin students clapping.

"Professor Granger will be teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts, and will also be taking over the role of Head of Gryffindor House, as Professor Longbottom has stepped down in order to take care of the Forbidden Forest. I would like to congratulate our new Head Boy, Euan Abercrombie of Gryffindor, and our new Head Girl, Rose Zeller of Hufflepuff. Will the Prefects please lead the rest of the students back to the dormitories, goodnight!"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Hermione leant on her desk at the front of the classroom, watching her first class enter the room. Her eyes flicked across them critically; sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. They sat in friendship groups, she noticed. Gryffindors with Gryffindors, and Slytherins with Slytherins. As soon as the classroom was full, Hermione lifted her hand and the door slammed shut.

"Everybody stand. I want to mix things up. When you are in my classroom, you won't sit next to somebody of the same house. Change seats." Hermione made sure to project her voice in an even tone, still holding the slightly hard edge she had used as an Auror. Obediently her class moved around, all sitting on the edge of their chairs. With a small smirk to herself, Hermione noticed that most of the boys had sat next to girls from the opposite house, probably assuming that the girls would do less damage.

"Welcome to Defense Against The Dark Arts. You all know who I am, so I'm just gonna start. This lesson will not follow the same patterns as previous Professors may have started. This lesson is not just about hexes and curses, it's not just about dueling, it's not even just about magic. This lesson is about Defense, and that is what you will get. You will learn everything that is on the syllabus, and you will pass your NEWTs, but you will also leave this school with the knowledge of how to defend yourself." A Gryffindor boy sitting near the back raised his hand.

"If you're not teaching hexes and curses, how will we learn what's on the syllabus?" he asked insolently.

"Listen up. I said this lesson is not _just_about hexes and curses. Sure, they're useful, but so are a lot of other things."

"I read that you didn't even take your NEWTs, so how can you teach us for them?" The Slytherin girl next to him spoke up now.

"Good question." Hermione nodded to the girl. "How old are all of you guys now? You're what, sixteen?" There were a few mumbles of assent, so Hermione continued. "When I was twelve, I helped stop Lord Voldemort from regaining a body. When I was thirteen, I survived an attack by a Basilisk. When I was fourteen, I used a Time-Turner to help a known criminal escape from the Ministry of Magic. When I was fifteen, I helped my best friend survive the Tri-Wizard Tournament. When I was sixteen, in my fifth year, I founded a Defense Association and I fought against Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic. When I was seventeen, in your year at school, I fought against Death Eaters, in this very castle. When I was supposed to be in my Seventh year, I faced Lord Voldemort with my two best friends, and I survived.

"I have fought against the Dark Arts for eleven years, since I was twelve years old. No, I'm not much older than you, and no, I didn't sit my NEWTs, but don't doubt that I haven't seen much more than you would ever want to see. I am here to prepare you for whatever you might face in the future. If the worst thing you face is a Boggart, I'm glad for you. But if you face anything like the things I've faced in life, you'll need this class, and the Wizarding world will need you." Hermione took a deep breath, and raised her chin another inch.

"And, if you still believe my skills to be lacking, I will happily duel you for my honour. Now, please take out a piece of parchment and a quill. This lesson, I'm going to give you your homework assignments for the rest of the term, and the dates I expect you to hand in these pieces of work. I will _not_be covering these topics in class, and these may very well be on your NEWT exam, so I would suggest you research thoroughly. I will, however, warn you, that if your work is not up to standard, you will rewrite the essays."

There was rustling from all corners of the room, and Hermione reeled off the list of assignments from memory, being sure to charm onto the board the essay title and due date as they were said. It was near the end of the lesson when she faced her first unexpected challenge.

"Professor, you never said what we were to do if we wished to duel you." The same Gryffindor that had raised his hand earlier spoke out. Radcliffe, Hermione remembered the boy's name was.

"Well, Mr. Radcliffe, if you wish to duel me you will have to attend the dueling club."

"There isn't a dueling club," a particularly dense Gryffindor girl stated.

"Thursday evenings, seven o'clock in the Great Hall, starting next week." Hermione said in a clipped tone, before allowing a smile to creep into her voice. "I look forward to seeing you all attending. If you have any questions about the assignments I have set, you may visit me in my Head of House office, I will be there from six to eight every evening excepting Thursdays. You're dismissed."

Hermione was gratified to see several members of the class noting down the day and time on spare pieces of parchment before they left. She yawned as she sat down in her desk chair, glad of the free period she had before her next class. A knock on the door had Hermione's back ramrod straight in an instant, completely alert.

"Come in," she called, surreptitiously checking her wand was still easily accessible in its holster on her arm. She sighed in relief as Maximus entered, hair already windswept. "I thought you were a student!" she admonished fiercely, Maximus had the grace to duck his head slightly.

"Forgive me. I saw you had a free hour on the schedules, and I thought I would come and see how your first lesson went, if you want to talk about it?" Maximus had entered the room as he was speaking, leaning on of the student desks in the front row.

"Thanks, Maximus, that'd be great. I think I over-prepared so much that I've got nothing to do now,"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Maximus had let Hermione unburden herself for the entire class period, so much so that he had had to rush out to beat his students to the Quidditch pitch when the bell rang. Hermione felt a little bad that she had kept the man, but in all fairness he had offered to talk with her, and from their previous conversations it _must_have been obvious that she enjoyed to talk.

Thankfully, Hermione had a class of third year students third period who all seemed to be in too much awe of her to cause any kind of trouble, and her lesson plan was followed to the minute. Four of them, however ambushed her before she could leave the classroom, begging for autographs which she had no heart to refuse.

By the time Hermione had made it to the Great Hall, the only seat left was at the end of the table, in between the disappearing Potions Master, and the Divination Professor, Solon Calchas. She made her way to the empty place, smiled warmly at the odd little man, and nodded politely at Malfoy.

After twenty minutes of Solon Calchas' attempts to use Divination to determine her state of mind, Hermione was ready to bang her head against the table. As it was, all she could do was tighten her grip on her cutlery, and screw up her eyes when he looked away. Hermione started when she felt a hand come over hers, loosening her grip on her knife.

"Careful, or you might stab someone with that." Hermione looked up, startled at Malfoy's intervention, only to find her knife dug into the table.

"Sorry," Hermione grimaced as she attempted to tug it back out. Yet again she was surprised to find the pale fingers encircling hers. They pulled, hard, and the knife was free. "Thank you," his grey eyes were soft, as they stared into her own, and Hermione thought he might be about to say something, until-

"I sense unrest!" came the dulcet tones of Solon.

Their eyes snapped apart, Malfoy's sharpening into steel orbs, shuttered to emotion. He rolled his eyes at the Divination Professor's attempts at prophecy, and pursed his lips slightly.

"That would be the students, Professor Calchas. I believe two of the Ravenclaw Seventh Years have broken up over the summer holiday. I am sure they are in need of your insights." His words, while slightly cold seemed fairly genuine, and Solon took them to heart, gamely descending to speak with some of the Ravenclaw pupils there. Malfoy turned to Hermione, an indecipherable expression on his face. "Professor Calchas has a tendency, as with many of us, to bore others on his area of expertise, however he is very caring, and conscientious of any problems the students may be having."

Hermione found herself nodding in response, before suddenly realizing just whom she was talking with. Her neck went stiff, and she turned away. Hermione almost thought she imagined the brief flash of pain in Malfoy's eyes.


	5. Breathing

- Chapter 5 -

Breathing

The next few weeks passed fairly quickly. All of Hermione's classes were advancing rapidly, and she found herself able to add in more advanced spell work. The students seemed happy with the pacing of things, and Hermione was sure to give them plenty of recap lessons to make sure they understood the concepts.

Hermione spent a lot of time with Maximus too. As Heads of House, they had to attend more staff meetings than the other teachers, but Maximus often visited her quarters for late night chats. Hermione was surprised to find the amount of things that she had in common with the former Quidditch star. Maximus was quite intelligent, and shared Hermione's love of animals.

He had appeared at her duelling club more than once, too, proving that he was more than just a pretty face, although when the students had begged for them to duel properly, Hermione had him bound and disarmed in under two minutes.

Maximus even invited her to the Three Broomsticks for a 'friendly drink', but she could see in his eyes that he was really asking for a date. Hermione told him that she only drank at the Hog's Head. Maximus had frowned at her, telling her it was a place for Dark wizards, and most definitely not suited to a lady such as herself. Hermione had stared, unseeingly over his head for a moment before excusing herself.

She knew that it was a terrible thing to resent someone for, but she couldn't help resenting Maximus for not being there, fighting with them. She couldn't help but to resent the fact that he still had his family, and the friends he had grown up with. She couldn't help but be jealous of his unblemished, unscarred skin and the nights of peaceful sleep he doubtless enjoyed. He didn't have to turn at every sound, there was no need for him to sleep with a wand holster on. He didn't have to be afraid of anything.

She couldn't help hating him a little when he treated her as if she was fragile, as if she wasn't as strong as him. Hell, Hermione knew she was _stronger._ And what he'd said about the Hogs Head… didn't he know that that had been run by Aberforth? That the Hogs Head had saved many of the students from dying of starvation? Of course not; none of the students had survived to tell their tale.

Hermione still hadn't managed to see her way to visiting the Quidditch pitch either. Maximus couldn't understand why she refused to go to the matches, and avoided watching the practices. He had seemed to think that she just had something against Quidditch, until Neville had heard about him hassling her.

By nature, Neville was a creature of habit and of peace. Without the war, it was doubtful that Neville would ever have raised his wand against another soul, but he was fiercely protective of people he considered friends, and he and Hermione were so close they could have been family. The portrait that guarded Hermione's quarters, Artemisia, had seen the altercation and relayed it back to Hermione.

_Neville__had__waylaid__Maximus__as__he__was__on__his__way__to__visit__Hermione,__drawing__his__wand__in__the__corridor._

_ "You need to stop pressuring Hermione about Quidditch matches," he had growled. Maximus had laughed lazily, and attempted to step round the other man._

_ "All I want is for Hermione to come see me on a broom," he said with an easy smile. "She can't hate Quidditch that much." Neville had pushed him up against the wall, the wood of his wand digging into Maximus's neck._

_ "There is a monument, next to the Quidditch pitch," he breathed darkly into Maximus's ear. "Have you ever noticed what it is for?"_

_ "For the war, of course… but what does that have to do with…?" Another growl from Neville, and the wand pressed harder into the Slytherin's neck._

_"__Harry__Potter__faced__Voldemort__on__the__Quidditch__pitch,__" __Neville__said__stiffly.__ "__There__were__five__people__on__the__field.__Lucius__Malfoy,__Voldemort,__Harry__Potter,__Ron__Weasley,__and__Hermione.__Hermione__was__the__only__person__to__leave__that__field__alive.__She__is__the__only__living__person__who__truly__knows__what__happened__to__her__friends,__and__how__it__all__ended.__She__has__never__told_anyone _what__happened__that__day,__and__I__won__'__t__see__you__try__to__push__her__too__far.__" __Neville__took__a__deep__breath.__ "__If__I__hear__of__you__upsetting__her__again,__I__will__show__you_exactly _why__I__was__a__survivor__of__the__war.__Don__'__t__push__me,__Brankovitch.__"_

When Artemisia had told her, Hermione had rushed to Neville's quarters, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Neville had just held her, rubbing her back gently.

"Thank you," she said with a watery smile. Neville didn't bother to pretend that he didn't know what she was on about, and just grinned widely at her.

"I meant it, you know. You just give me the word and he's a goner, I promise." Hermione's following weak chuckle earned her an invitation to Neville's rooms, and a drinking session that Hogwarts had rarely seen the like of. All in all, it was a good job that it had been a Friday and that both Professors had had a full two days to recover from their binge.

Late Sunday afternoon, a House Elf popped into Hermione's chambers with a note from Maximus, asking her to take dinner in his rooms. Hermione smiled softly to herself, and sent a reply of yes, although she was sure to add a post script to ask that there be no alcohol involved. One binge was enough for her, thank you very much.

Maximus was the perfect gentleman, having miraculously acquired several different fruit juices for the evening. At Hogwarts, the choices of beverage were startlingly limited - coffee in the mornings, tea at lunch, and wine with dinner, or pumpkin juice with all three if you were a student. It was even difficult to persuade the House Elves to just let one have a glass of water, let alone anything as unfamiliar to them as _apple_juice.

The conversation was wonderful too, and Hermione found herself warming up to Maximus as he told her of his Quidditch days. In fact, she found herself imagining having the same discussion at the Gryffindor table, or at the back of the library. Her eyes snapped open immediately, and she almost ran from the room.

Nearly an hour later, Hermione still sat in a dark corner of the dungeons, hyperventilating. Maximus had reminded her, so much, of the people she had lost. Of Harry and Ron, and their endless chatter of Quidditch moves, of dear Viktor and his tales of over-enthusiastic fans, of sitting in the Gryffindor stands, looking down across the field…

_ The field was on fire, as were the Hufflepuff stands. Hermione hid near the base of the Gryffindor ones, firing off curses at Lucius Malfoy. She swore at the startling green of his curse, returning one of her own. The blonde fell, only moments before his curse reached it's intended target… Ron._

Tears fell down Hermione's face as she replayed the scene, over and over. Her quick breaths became more ragged, and she found it harder and harder and… harder… to get… any…

A hand stroked her back softly, and Hermione threw herself at the chest of whomever was comforting her. Thankfully, they didn't let go. Hermione buried her face in the crook of the person's neck - a man, by the musky scent. Her breathing slowed, and evened out as the hand on her back rubbed in circles, the other pressing against her head, holding her tightly to him. Hermione's senses seemed to come back to her the more she calmed, yet her unknown saviour refused to let her go.

"Just stay here a minute," he muttered in a cultured tone. "I'm here, you're okay. It's safe. The battle is over, Hogwarts is free, _you_are free. Voldemort is dead, _you_are alive. You've survived, you're okay. Everything is fine now." Hermione felt the hands loosen as she visibly relaxed, and pulled away slowly.

Thankfully, it wasn't a student, it was another staff member. Hermione supposed that in the back of her mind she had expected for it to be Neville with the way he spoke, but the man who stood before her was someone she had most definitely not expected.

"_Malfoy_?" Hermione asked confusedly. "Why are you… here?" Malfoy didn't seem very fazed by her harsh tone, in fact, he smiled slightly.

"That's almost exactly what Longbottom asked me when I found him for the first time," the blonde paused for a moment, obviously in deep thought. "When somebody is upset, children especially, it's important that they have somebody there to help them. Brankovitch is a fairly good Head of House, but he's not a shoulder to cry on."

"And you are?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

"I'm fairly sure I just was," he retorted softly, speaking again into the silence as Hermione failed to answer. "You shouldn't be down in the dungeons at this time of night, you know. I take it you were visiting Brankovitch?" Hermione nodded. "I'd keep my distance if I were you."

"Who are _you_to tell _me_who I should and should not be friends with?" Hermione asked angrily, finding her voice again. Malfoy continued on as if she'd never spoken.

"Every month, the day after we get paid, he goes up to the Owlery and sends a bag with half of his wages out by owl." He spoke very calmly, despite Hermione nearly hissing with rage. "He's said before that he doesn't really have any family, or any close friends, so who is he sending money to? Makes you think, a little."

"Makes you think what?" Hermione hissed darkly. "So what if he's hiding something? He's still a better man than _you!_"

"I'm sure he is," Malfoy said slowly, a tinge of regret creeping into his voice. "I'm sure he is. But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't still be careful. There are a great many people in this world who are better than I, but they can still do terrible things."

"Oh give it a rest, Malfoy!" Hermione spat. "Stop acting like you give a damn about me." Malfoy's head tilted to one side, and his face twisted in a wry expression that Hermione couldn't decipher.

"And what if I do give a damn about you? What then, Professor Granger?"

"Don't be stupid," she snorted, scrubbing at her face with the sleeve of her robes. "You hate me, you always have."

"I don't hate you," he said softly, head bowed towards the ground, stray strands of white blonde hair falling across his face

"Then why were you always against us? In school, in the war?" Hermione pushed herself to her feet, and glared at the other Professor angrily. "Don't say you didn't hate me."

"In school, yes. But aren't there things you regret doing when you were twelve?"

"There's still the war." Hermione moved forwards, still glaring angrily.

"I don't fight, Professor Granger. I never have."

"Liar!"

"I don't lie, either, Professor Granger. Although I will admit that in my youth, I was known to spin a tale, or two." Hermione launched herself forwards, reaching for Malfoy's left arm, her fingers clutching onto the fabric of his robe, pushing it upwards, out of her way. "Professor Granger, what are you-?"

There was an awkward moment of silence as the shirtsleeve ripped, revealing clear skin. Hermione froze, fingers trailing the expanse of unblemished flesh for a moment, but all to soon Malfoy had pulled his arm from hers. He glared down at her harshly, silver eyes molten in the dark light.

"Malfoy… I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"My name is Professor Malfoy, Professor Granger. Please do not resort to informalities - it would soon spread to the students." His voice was cold, colder than Hermione thought possible.

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, Professor Granger. I think it is quite clear that you _did_mean to." He sighed shortly. "You only feel guilt due to my innocence, and I assure you, Professor Granger, I _am_an innocent. Just as I always have been."

He stalked away, robes billowing behind him. If it hadn't been for the blonde hair, Hermione could have almost thought she were back at school, receiving detention for some stupid prank from the erstwhile Professor Snape. She dropped her head in her hands, pressing her forehead against the cold stone of the dungeon walls.

"Stupid, stupid," she mumbled to herself. "So stupid!"


	6. The Hardest Thing

- Chapter 6 -

The Hardest Thing

Hermione saw hide nor hair of the Potions Professor for a week and half - plenty of time for her to regret what she'd done, and what she'd said. The man had been trying to _help_her, and she'd just judged him on their school days. Hadn't they all done stupid things back then? Hadn't everybody changed in the intervening years? But no, she just had to put her foot in it.

She saw him in the bi-monthly staff meeting. He slipped in moments before it started, a House Elf tugging on his robes. Malfoy sat at the back of the room, closest to the door. He said little throughout the meeting, speaking only when spoken too, and he'd escaped the room before Hermione had even left her seat.

He barely came to meals anymore, timing his brewing so that it ran over into lunch and dinner. Hermione had to hand it to him, he disappeared much more efficiently than anyone else she'd ever met. She'd stopped talking to Maximus as much. The American had been persistent, at first, but she suspected that her glares had frightened him away, just a little. He might have been a big, strong Quidditch player, but he'd never had Professor Severus Snape's legendary glares as a teaching aid.

Rumour had it that his portrait in the Headmistress's office only spoke to those who he respected. According to the Daily Prophet the Minister of Magic had had a nasty shock when the portrait had turned his back on the man's attempts to start conversation. Hermione hadn't dared to try to talk to the portrait. She wasn't entirely sure that she ever would.

After three weeks in which Hermione hadn't seen Malfoy for more than ten minutes at a stretch, she decided it was time for stronger measures. A quick, albeit misleading, conversation with Minerva and she knew where his quarters were. As she reached them, she snorted. No wonder he'd found her when she'd been upset. The corner she'd chosen to sob in was practically his front step.

Hermione smiled a little at the portrait that guarded his quarters. Pansy Parkinson. While they'd been at school Pansy had put on a good show, turning into the Potions Master's prodigy spy. Hermione smiled softly at the blonde witch, who scowled back half-heartedly.

"I'm guessing, as it's you that's here that you're the one who upset him?" Portrait-Pansy asked shrewdly. Hermione nodded, blushing a little.

"I've come to apologise, or to try to at any rate." Pansy nodded slowly, before swinging open.

"If he asks, I'm telling him you threatened me with turpentine!" Pansy called as Hermione stepped through, into Professor Malfoy's rooms.

She'd expected them to be opulent. Lots of fur, and maybe in a deep purple colour. Instead she found very plain, simple wooden furniture. The walls were covered in books, the only indulgence that she could see. There were no photographs, no paintings, no letters left out. The place was… empty. She ran a hand over the spines of the books nearest to her, smiling softly.

"Professor Granger," Hermione jumped at the voice that came from behind her. She dived to the left, wand out, shield up even as she hit the ground. She blushed again, dropping the shield.

"My apologies, but-"

"I sound like my father, I know." Malfoy interrupted bitterly. "And I look like him too. Ironic, I suppose, seeing as we're nothing alike. But you wouldn't believe that."

"No, actually. I'm still a little jumpy, from my time as an Auror, and…"

"And the war." Malfoy finished for her. "May I help you with anything, Professor Granger, or did you break into my chambers just to molest my books?" Hermione blushed once more.

"I… I wanted to apologise, for what I said to you. I spoke without thinking."

"You acted without thinking too," he said, obviously thinking of his ripped sleeve.

"It's just… so hard to leave behind all the old prejudices that we had… especially when… when it's what _they_ believed too." She looked up at Malfoy, eyes wide and glistening with tears. "It was so… so easy to pretend. To imagine that we were kids again, and that everything was simple again."

"When I was the bad guy," he growled. "Unless you have a valid request, Professor Granger, I would ask that you leave my quarters." Before Hermione could do more than nod to his request, a silver form sped through the wall of Hogwarts.

Hermione, had it caught in a golden net for a moment, before it threw the net off, revealing that it was just a Patronus in the shape of a stag. Hermione's breath caught as she recognised the form, and her left hand clutched at Draco who had stood with her. The silvery beast looked to her, and cantered over to them. It opened its mouth and-

_Harry__'__s__voice__spilled__out,__only__to__her._

_ "Hermione, get to Hogwarts, it's about to happen. I'll be waiting for you on the Quidditch Pitch. I'm going to end it today. You know what to do if things go wrong…_

But this time it wasn't Harry's voice. It was Ginny's, and she sounded as distraught as when she'd woken up after the Battle.

"Hermione, it's Cho. She's… she's gone. We talked last night, about what had happened, and then this morning, the Aurors found her. I'm with her body, at St. Mungo's. I've already told the others, Neville and Justin are coming to me, I know you have duties at Hogwarts, but would you come to see her body with me tomorrow morning? Thanks, I guess I already know your answer."

The girl's voice had clearly been wracked with sobs, and Hermione wondered to herself how Ginny had managed to even cast a Patronus charm considering how upset she'd been. Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself, then looked to the other member of staff.

"Yes, when you were the bad guy." Hermione continued almost as if the stag hadn't interrupted them. "In some ways, it would be easier if you'd just stayed that way. Easier to admit that Harry wasn't wrong."

"He almost wasn't." Malfoy admitted slowly. "I was close, very close to choosing the side of the Dark Lord." He paused, and Hermione edged closer to him, hoping for him to continue.

"What changed?" She asked breathlessly.

"I was in Diagon Alley, when they attacked once. And you, you turned up with all of your Order, and I saw the curses that they were using… and then I saw Dolohov, aiming at you, and I couldn't stop myself. He was going to kill you. I couldn't let him. I didn't know why. I still don't." His voice was hoarse now, and he spoke in a low voice only just above a whisper. "So I cast a cutting curse at his throat." Hermione gasped.

"I remember," she said reverently. "I couldn't work out what had happened, it was like a fountain of blood. Why didn't you join us?"

"Father saw me. He knew then that I'd be killed if he tried to force me to join the Dark Lord, but he couldn't let me turn against me. So he sent me away. He slapped a Portkey on me, and sent me to a manor in Switzerland. It was warded so tightly that I couldn't get out. The wards were set to fall at the death of Harry Potter, or at the death of the Dark Lord, or at the death of my Father." He laughed bitterly. "What a surprise then, that when I came out, trying to find out who'd died, I learnt that they all had. I always wondered, who died first. Who set me free." He looked up at Hermione, who looked like a rabbit in headlights. "I'm not asking, Granger. Just telling you that one day, one day you're going to have to tell people what happened. The world won't always be satisfied with what they were before."

"I know, I just… I just can't. I'm so sorry, Mal-" Hermione cut herself off, and gave a watery smile. "I'm sorry, Draco."

And then his strong arms were wrapped around her as they both cried. Later, they would both swear it had never happened.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Later that night, Hermione went to see Minerva.

"Cho Chang is dead," she said flatly. "Ginny is in hysterics, Neville should have gone to her. As I have to stay overnight to watch my cubs, I'll be taking Ginny to see the body tomorrow morning, so I won't be able to take my morning classes, it's probably best to cancel them for the whole day. I'll send you a message when as we have more information, and I'll tell you then if we'll be back for lessons for the day after." Minerva nodded resolutely, lips pursed.

"Take the time you need, both of you." She said, voice betraying only a small amount of her inner turmoil. "Go now, Miss Weasley should not be alone at the moment. I know that the two of them were particularly close friends." Hermione nodded, and she left the office, barely noticing that Draco was with her until they had left the Entrance Hall, even.

"I don't think that me coming with you will give the right reaction, Granger." He told her gently. The girl had barely realised that she still held his hand. He reached inside his robes, and pulled out a small canvas bag. "Calming potions." He told her simply. "If you need me, I'll be in my lab, brewing." Hermione nodded, made her way to the front gate, apparating away to Ginny's apartment as soon as she was free of the wards.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Hermione stayed with Ginny for the whole night, and the next day after that. The entire group of 'survivors' gathered at the hospital to see the body together. Hermione wondered if their name still applied… after all, they weren't all survivors now. The magical autopsy had been completed now. Cho had killed herself, unable to face her memories.

Ginny had been a complete wreck, she'd been the last to speak to Cho, and couldn't seem to stop berating herself for not noticing the other woman's state of mind. Justin and Neville both had silent tears making tracks down their faces. Luna stood next to the body, Charming Cho's favourite dress onto her, and teasing her hair into the plaits the other girl had loved. Hermione had been the epitome of British stoicism, stiff upper lip and all, barely saying a word when the others were present.

But once they'd left, once it was just Hermione, and Cho, she cried.

"Oh, Cho! Oh, sweetheart! Why didn't you talk to us? We could have helped you, we would have tried…" She pressed a damp kiss to Cho's forehead. "We'll always miss you, Cho darling. We'll always love you, and we'll always salute your memory. I hope you're happy now, wherever you are. And I hope you're with Cedric."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Cho Chang was buried with full honours in the graveyard where all the rest of the war heroes lay. There had been a few bureaucrats who'd not wanted Cho buried there, some nonsense that she hadn't been in the Battle at all. They'd backed down at the sight of the five remaining in an arrow formation, wands out, reminded of exactly why they'd all survived the war.

"Cho will be buried with her friends, and with her family." Hermione said coldly. "She suffered greatly so that people like _you_could live in freedom, without fear. If you try to make her sacrifice any less, I will not hesitate to teach you what fear truly is."

It had been a beautiful funeral, albeit too large for anybody's tastes. The press coverage of the event had been bearable, Hermione suspected that some of the reporters still had scars from the last time they'd interrupted her whilst she was mourning.

And when she came home, to Hogwarts, Malfoy was brewing in his lab, a cup of hot chocolate waiting for her, with a hug.


	7. The Death of Quidditch

- Chapter 7 -

The Death Of Quidditch

In the intervening months between Cho's death, and the anniversary of the Final Battle, Granger had become Hermione, and Malfoy had become Draco. Maximus had still been trying to convince Hermione to watch a Quidditch match, or a practice, and had ended up in the hospital wing under the care of Cosette Soin three times, twice due to Neville, and once thanks to Draco. For the Head of Slytherin, Maximus seemed to be severely lacking in self-preservation skills.

Hermione and Draco spent a lot of time together, now. Several of the other staff, and a good proportion of the students were of the opinion that they were 'together', however the two had spent a much larger proportion of their time laughing about the rumours than getting up to what the rumour-mongers suggested. In fact, Hermione and Draco had not progressed any farther into a relationship than the hug of a few months previously, which they both still denied.

Draco arrived at his quarters after dinner one Thursday to find a raging Hermione in his rooms.

"I can't believe the audacity of it! I mean, they want to have it _there_of all places… _there!_ It's practically _sacrilege!_" Seeing Hermione in full rant, and having a great deal more self-preservation than Maximus, Draco left a note on the inside of his portrait, and then went to wait for Hermione to calm down… in _her_rooms.

Three hours later, Hermione arrived, looking thoroughly worn out. She threw herself onto the settee, taking the book Draco had been reading from his hands and dropping it to the floor.

"You're an unmitigated bastard." She said, with no hint of malice.

"You're terrifying." He returned, eyeing his book. "What got you so worked up then? I haven't seen you that way since the war?"

"They want to hold the anniversary celebration on the _Quidditch__Pitch!_" Hermione wailed. Draco merely blinked at her.

"Ah, and you'd rather it wasn't there, I take it?"

"Of course I don't want it to be there! I haven't been near the place since… since… you know!"

"No, Hermione, actually I don't know. Nobody knows. Nobody but you. It's been five years now. If you can't face what happened soon, you won't be able to."

"I will be fine." Hermione hissed. "I just don't want to… They want to hold it in the spot that Harry _died,_ for Merlin's sake, Draco. Where he _died_!"

"Why are you so upset about all of this? It's not as if you killed Harry."

"But I did!" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, and stood, attempting to retreat, but Draco managed to grab onto the sleeve of her robes, slowing her down enough to drag her back to her seated position.

"Don't you dare run away from me now, Hermione Granger. If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, I can go and get Professor Longbottom, or I can get the Headmistress, but you can't run away, you have to let this out." He wrapped one arm around her, awkwardly giving her a half hug. "So who is it to be?"

"You," Hermione whispered, turning her whole body into his shoulder, and pressing her face into his body, letting sobs wrack her body. She felt Draco's other arm wrap around her waist, and the next thing she knew he had pulled her entire body to sit on his lap.

"If you're going to cry, you might as well do so comfortably," he said rather gruffly. "Just start talking, when you can."

It took some ten minutes for Hermione to calm herself enough to speak at all.

"Harry, he… he sent me a _Patronus_ message, and, and it said that I should meet him… meet him here, on, on the Quidditch Pitch… he told me, he told me that this was _it._ So I went. And… and I fought… got over to the pitch, like Harry said. And Harry was there, and Ron, and Voldemort, and _Malfoy_." So caught up in her memories, Hermione didn't notice Draco stiffen slightly. "I got a… the Killing Curse, at Malfoy, but I was too late, almost as I said it he got… he got Ron… and then… then Harry got _him_. And I ran to Harry, and Harry… Harry… Harry he… he had these eyes… these red eyes and it was… it was _him__…_ it was _Voldemort_, but he was, he was _in_Harry. And then they changed back to green, and he just looked at me, and he said… he said… he said '_Kill__me!__'…_ and I did…" Hermione threw herself at Draco again, letting his arms hold her, safe with him.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Hermione and Draco were barely seen outside of the other's company, after that. It seemed to the Hogwarts population that the only time the pair were apart was when they taught. Seeking to take advantage of this, Maximus Brankovitch proved his utter idiocy and total lack of self preservation by attempting to threaten Draco.

Maximus had carefully checked Hermione's teaching schedule, and had noted down the times that she was teaching that Draco wasn't. The Potions Master was notorious for hiding in his office, marking during his free periods, and so Maximus planned to visit the other Professor whilst Hermione taught seventh year Gryffindor and Ravenclaws.

"You need to stay away from Hermione, you little brat!" Maximus hissed, as soon as he had entered the room.

"My apologies, Professor Brankovitch, but I must confess that I don't quite understand you." Draco's voice was perfectly level, if slightly cool. "Professor Granger and I are friends."

"Yeah, well, the little bitch is mine!" Brankovitch hissed angrily. "And you need to stay away from her, you understand?"

"May I offer my congratulations on your relationship with Professor Granger then, Professor Brankovitch." Draco offered snidely, knowing that the pair had been spending less time together more recently, due to he and Hermione speaking more often.

"Oh, you think you're so clever, you smarmy little _git_! Granger is _mine._She's gonna get me my Quidditch career back… Who wouldn't want the girl-who-lived's boyfriend playing for their team?" Maximus smirked, a cruel glint in his eye.

"Hermione is _not_ the girl-who-lived!" Draco growled, rising to his feet, wand out in front of him. "She is more than that, she is _so__much_more!"

"She's _nothing_!" Maximus spat, raising his own wand, only to pause as-

"Thank you for that, Professor Brankovitch," came Hermione's cold voice. "I'm glad that we understand each other clearly. If you'll excuse me, Professor Malfoy and I have somewhere to be."

"Hermione, please, wait - you misheard me!" Brankovitch scrambled to cover his misstep, but Hermione was uncaring, walking from the room, Draco close behind her. The two made their way up, out of the dungeons before speaking.

"Uncle Sev left me his book of untraceable poisons when he died." Draco said conversationally. "I'm sure I read about one which would cause the drinker immense amounts of pain…" Hermione's upper lip quirked slightly, only to be pushed down in a frown after a brief second. Draco stopped still and bodily turned her to face him. "Hermione, don't listen to him. He's an arsehole, you knew that already."

"Did you provoke him?" Hermione asked. Draco shook his head, and was pleased to see a smile rise on Hermione's face. "I'm sure that showing Minerva your memory of that would end with her finding us a new flying instructor."

"Very true, Hermione. I'm proud of you, you're planning like a Slytherin. After dinner?"

"Yes. Now let's hurry back to my class; when I left them they were quite eager for the demonstration of offensive potions."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Hermione stood in front of the monument erected in her honour. She had been told that it represented more than just herself, yet her figure was the one that stood tall, forever preserved in marble stone. And it was Hermione, that stood on a podium, year after year, holding her head high, ready to spout the same pointless drivel about a long-gone war, that had been written by somebody who'd probably hidden under their bed for the duration.

The audience went quiet as she stepped forwards, all looking at her, all waiting for her to speak, waiting for her to tell them to raise their wands in tribute. All waiting for her to shut up, so they could go home to families that still existed, ready to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Just the same as the year before.

Hermione cleared her throat, and cast a _Sonourus_charm at herself, eyes scanning the parchment with 'her' speech written neatly on it in black ink.

"Wizards, and Witches of Britain. We all know why we are gathered here today. We are here to commemorate the lives of those who fought in the wars against darkness, those who fought Riddle in earnest. But we are also here to celebrate the victory over evil, and the freedom we now all share. It has been five long years since the Final Battle, and our society has paid much attention to those who fought in the largest battles, and those who survived them." Hermione paused for breath, her eyes finding the darkly-clad Potions Professor smiling encouragingly up at her. "Each year, I am given a piece of parchment that tells me exactly what I should say to you," Hermione raised the pre-written speech, and tore it in two. "Today, I change my mind. Today, I tell you a story.

"It's the story of a boy, a man that I fought with. He died here, in the Final Battle." Hermione moved three paces to her left, and took a deep breath. "He died right here, in fact, where I stand now. That boy was called Harry Potter, and he died for every Wizard, and every Witch, for every Muggle, every Werewolf. For every Centaur, every Vampire, every House-Elf. Five years have passed, and I need to tell you a story. I need to tell you about my best friend, the man who came into battle knowing that for Voldemort to die, he had to do the same."

Hermione turned to the statue behind her, and drew her wand.

"It is not we who survived that should be honoured, it is those who gave their lives for this cause," she said, skilfully casting cutting curses at the marble. "This is not a day for the posturing of politicians, this is a day that should mark the passing of the brave souls who fought for us."

Once the dust had cleared from the statue, it was much smaller, and was now a smooth block with the simple outline of a poppy engraved into it. Underneath was carved '_The__Fallen_'. Hermione waved her wand once more, and conjured herself a poppy, using a sticking charm to pin in to her robes.

"In the Muggle world, the poppy is a flower of remembrance. I urge you too, to wear a poppy for the next seven days, and I urge you to tell your friends, your neighbours and your children. Remember who you owe your lives to. Remember the fallen."

There was silence as Hermione stepped down from the podium and walked towards Draco. The first noise made was, in fact, by Draco. For once, not using silent magic, he conjured a poppy, and stuck it to his chest. Minerva McGonagall was the next to conjure her poppy, followed in short order by the rest of the group of survivors. The politicians, of course, were next, and within minutes the entire crowd wore poppies, still looking expectantly at Hermione. She smiled demurely, and blushed only a little.

"Thank you." And then Draco escorted her back into the castle, leaving the audience behind, whispering, and gossiping. For once, Hermione didn't care.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Hermione's speech was printed in the Daily Prophet, along with a photo of the crowd wearing their poppies. Within hours of the speech, nearly every witch and wizard in Diagon Alley wore poppies. Several reporters had braved Minerva's wrath, and had snuck into the castle in an attempt to find Hermione for a photograph, or a quote.

Unfortunately for the reporters, none thought to check the Potions Master's quarters, where Hermione sat, curled into Draco, tears running down her cheeks. And, had any of the reporters gotten that far, they would surely have been shocked to find the dour man stroking her hair, and whispering gentle nothings in her ear.


	8. Open Wounds

- Chapter 8 -

Open Wounds

In the aftermath of Hermione's speech, she had been hounded by the press for interviews, and by staff and students asking for the 'real story' of the battle, now that she was talking about it. No less than three publishers had approached her wanting her to either write a book, or co-write one on the war. A further two wanted her help in a book about Harry Potter. In fact, Hermione was so busy with all of the attention, in addition to her usual teaching schedule, her extra curricular clubs, and her duties as Head of Gryffindor, that it took her a little while to notice that she hadn't seen Draco.

At first, she brushed off the thought. Hadn't she seen him at the last staff meeting, and at breakfast three days before that? When things finally began to calm down, she took stock, and realised that it had been a good six weeks since she and Draco had last spent an evening together over coffee. And once Hermione realised this, she made her way to Draco's rooms post haste.

The only problem, was that by the time she got to his rooms, he wasn't there.

After another three attempts to find him, and one particularly near miss where she found his cloak, and a still burning candle in the library Hermione realised that she needed to adjust her tactics. Plan set in mind, she went to talk with Neville.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Three hours later, hidden in an overly large plant pot, Hermione wondered if it had really been a good idea. Surely when she jumped out of the pot with clumps of dirt in her hair, and smears of it all over her face and the carefully chosen pale-gold robes, Draco would shudder at the sight of her before running away - or walking quickly, in a dignified manner as befitted a Malfoy.

She was tempted, very tempted to call it all off, to find another way to get Draco to speak with her, but a small voice in the back of her mind spoke up. _It__'__s__been__six__weeks__already,__how__much__longer__before__he__decides__you__'__re__not__worth__it__at__all?_ Hermione gulped before setting her jaw, determined to see it through.

It took another forty minutes for the door to the greenhouse to open. Hermione could hear Neville's voice clearly.

"It's in the biggest pot in the back of the greenhouse… I've been rather hoping that you could help it." Hermione clenched her teeth at Neville's unfortunate usage of the word 'it'. "It's my favourite, you see. I bred it. A Weeping Wanderer, I call it." _Yes,_ Hermione decided to herself, _Neville__is__enjoying__this__a__little__too__much._

"Of course, Professor Longbottom. I will look, although I cannot guarantee that I have a potion that will help." Draco's voice now, calm, and perfectly composed. Hermione heard footsteps moving closer to her, and then the greenhouse door slammed shut. Draco swore, and the footsteps retreated a little.

"Sorry, Professor!" Neville's voice called from outside. "This might take a couple of hours. My wards went up as the door closed."

"Then I'll just stay here and look at the damn plant." Draco growled sarcastically, then louder - "As you will, Professor Longbottom."

Hermione took a deep breath, and jumped upwards, out of the pot - or at least, she tried. The earth left in the pot seemed to have had some other component to it, as her feet were solidly stuck to the base, and the plant pot tipped over, landing with Hermione on her back, still mostly in the pot at Draco's feet.

His head tilted to one side, and Hermione could have sworn she saw just the edge of a smile before it was replaced with confusion.

"I take it you are the plant that Longbottom wanted me to help?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded, as much as she could from her awkward position. "Well then, I suppose we'll need to get you out of there. Close your eyes." He pointed his wand down at the pot, and took a breath. "_Sectumsempra!__"_

When Hermione opened her eyes once more, it was to Draco pulling parts of the pot away from each other. She didn't suppose he'd noticed, but he had a smear of dirt on his nose. All at once, she was struck with the first time she'd seen Ron, on the train.

"You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" She said softly, mimicking the tone she had used all those years before. Draco looked away from the pot then, and at her. Hermione couldn't help but to see the pain that shone in his silver eyes. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry! I… I don't know, but I'm sorry!"

He sighed then, and bodily pulled her from the remains of the pot, sitting down in a clear patch of ground with her still in his arms. He held her tightly for a moment, and buried his face in her hair.

"You… You killed him." Draco said slowly. "And if I'd have been you, I'd have done the same, but… he was the last person I had. Mother died in one of the early battles, from what I can tell, but he… Father, he nearly survived. I don't blame you, not really, it's just… hard."

Hermione extricated herself from Draco's arms, tears running down her face. She stood, and turned away from him, her head down.

"No, Draco, you should blame me. I _killed_your Father. I _murdered_him! I'm so sorry. This was a bad idea, I'll just go." Her voice was thick with tears as she made to leave.

"Hermione, don't!" Draco launched himself upwards, and grabbed Hermione's arm. "He… He needed to die. I know that. He was… He was insane, the last time I saw him. Paranoid and vicious. He wouldn't have stopped, he'd have killed you and I… Well, I… I can't stand to think of you gone. I just… I'm the last of my family now, you know? I don't really have… anyone, anymore."

Hermione turned into Draco, and wiped savagely at the tears, her eyes glistening.

"But you _do_, Draco!" She said earnestly. "What about Andromeda Tonks, and Teddy Lupin? Aren't they your family?"

"I've never even heard of them," Draco dismissed the idea with a shake of his head. "Look, Hermione, I just need a little time to get over being so alone. I'll be okay in a few weeks, I guess."

"How can you not have heard of Andromeda? She's your mother's sister, and Teddy is her grandson."

"My mother's only sister was Bellatrix," Draco said stubbornly. "She would have told me."

"Andromeda was struck from the Black family tree, because she married a Muggleborn wizard. I still see her, and Teddy… Would you like to come with me?"

Draco paused, then nodded.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The house that they apparated to didn't look as if a former Black could have ever lived there. It was a large-ish cottage, really. The front garden wasn't picturesque, it was almost wild. Strange, colourful flowers leapt out at them as they walked down the gravel path to the front door. The door knocker wasn't the snake that he had expected of the Blacks, nor the delicate flower he was sure that his Mother would have once chosen. Instead it was just a door knocker, albeit one made of heavy, rusted iron.

Hermione didn't even touch the knocker, rapping sharply on the wooden door three times. Draco looked around at the outside of the cottage. Ivy grew up the walls and curved around the windows and doorframe where a hand had clearly cut them away. The roof was made of some kind of straw. Nothing like Malfoy Manor at all. Nothing that Draco would have ever expected.

And then the door opened, and a boy of around five peered at them curiously. He saw Draco first, and with a squeeze of his eyes his mousy brown hair changed to white blond, and his amber eyes, when opened became the same silver as Draco's own.

"Theodore Lupin!" Came a woman's voice, clearly angry. "What do you think you are doing opening the front door? There could be _anyone_out there! Reckless child!" Her voice came closer, and Draco could hear footsteps too. "What do you _look_ like, Teddy? Reminds me of- oh!"

The woman opened the door fully, and looked straight into Draco's eyes. Draco mentally catalogued her features. Long, dark straight hair, skin that could have been porcelain, and dark eyes. It was like looking into the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange… But… when he searched harder, he could see differences. The hair wasn't _as_dark as Bellatrix's, nor were the eyes. The eyes were softer, and wider, and she had laughter lines, not lines worn in by years spent in Azkaban. Her face was the same shape as his own, the same shape as his mothers had been. Looking at her, Draco had no doubt in his mind - _this_was his family.

"You're Narcissa's son." The woman said slowly. "You… You look like her." Draco gave her a small, half-bow and a smile.

"Yes, I am. My name is Draco, I… I… I…" With a growing sense of horror, Draco felt his throat close up, and his mouth continue to stutter the same syllable.

"Andy, Draco wanted to meet his family." Hermione cut in kindly. "We were hoping that you might want to meet him too."

The woman, his _Aunt_, narrowed her eyes, looking Draco up and down once, before opening her door wider.

"Come in, Hermione," she wet her lips. "Draco."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

"And this was Nymphadora on her fifth birthday," Andromeda smiled sadly as her index finger stroked the photograph of her daughter. "You see the turquoise hair? Teddy seems to like that colour the best too." Both she and Draco looked over to the small boy who was enthusiastically trying to catch a series of balls that Hermione was juggling with her wand.

"Thank you for letting me come to see you, Madam Tonks," Draco told her formally, eyes shadowed. "This has been the… the best thing that I could ever have asked for."

"It is not me that you should thank. And I believe that you should call me Aunt, dear nephew. I, too, find myself sadly lacking when it comes to family."

"Aunt, then. May I come back to visit you again?"

"You may, Draco, but do bring Hermione with you. Your family is mine, after all, and she _is_going to be joining the family soon, I assume?"

"I… She… We're not…" Draco trailed off, eyes locked on Hermione's laughing face as she tickled Teddy into submission.

"That girl is one of the best of your generation, young man! If you don't marry her soon, some other man will snatch her from your arms!" Andromeda said sharply, leaning forwards.

"Maybe I'll ask her one day. If I'm lucky." Draco replied, still watching Hermione carefully.

"It has nothing to do with luck, Draco, but all to do with your fortitude."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

When Draco and Hermione left Andromeda's home that day, they left with a standing invitation to return. For Hermione, of course, this was nothing new. Having been a compatriot of Remus, and of his wife, she had often visited the small boy, as did Neville, and Ginny. For Draco, however, it seemed as if the sun shone brighter than it ever had before.

They walked from the cottage to a nearby Muggle pub that Hermione had visited before, having transfigured their clothes into more appropriate attire. Hermione wore a white knee-length summer dress with large fuchsia flowers printed on it. When she had turned, wand in hand to Draco, he had been particularly pleased to surprise her, having _some_knowledge of fashion in the Muggle world.

Draco now wore drainpipe corduroy trousers in a tan colour, with a light blue shirt. He turned in a slow circle, and was proud of the blush that rose on her cheeks as he did so.

"See, I'm not completely oblivious," Draco had drawled, holding his arm out to her. "Do I meet with your approval, madam?"

"Almost," Hermione said slowly. "Just… Let me!" Draco held himself completely still as Hermione transfigured him a cherry red bow tie to wear with the shirt. "There, perfect," she smiled as she straightened it around his neck.

"No, Hermione, that's you." Draco breathed into her ear, delighted to see her blush rise even further.

"It was nice, seeing Teddy, wasn't it?" Hermione asked him as she drew away, apparently determined to avoid what he had said. Inwardly, Draco sighed. If Andromeda's words were to be taken seriously, he would need a _lot_of fortitude.

"Yes, it was." Draco agreed, drawing her arm into his, and letting her lead him towards the pub. "He seems to be growing up rather well, considering."

"Considering what?" Hermione asked sharply. Draco sighed aloud this time.

"Hermione, you know me better than that. Considering that the child is an orphan, and that his parents aren't here for him." Draco paused, thinking. "Actually, it's a miracle that Potter turned out the way he did, missing his parents."

"_Harry,_" she replied sternly. "Call him _Harry_. I can't stand to think that- that-!" Hermione turned into Draco, pressing her face into his chest. Draco savoured the feel of her warm breath brushing his neck before responding.

"Harry it is then, Hermione. I wouldn't hurt you for the world, you know."

"I know, Draco," she whispered into his shirt. "I know."


	9. Moving On

- Chapter 9 -

Moving On

Draco couldn't pace anymore. After a full forty minutes of watching him, the portrait of Severus Snape above his mantel had dryly informed him that he was beginning to wear through his particularly expensive Persian rug. Draco couldn't see the damage himself, but he was too fond of the thing to risk it, so now he was stuck. Draco had never been able to think his way through a problem unless he could pace, and he was currently faced with what felt like the stickiest problem he'd ever encountered, and that was _including_ the _entire_ war.

_It shouldn't be complicated, really, _Draco thought to himself. _But it is_. He'd written a list, on a piece of parchment of different ideas. Ways to bring Hermione round to his point of view, to coerce her into agreement… Draco sighed, as the childish words came to mind; '_to ask her out'. _It was, however, the most true of them all. Unfortunately, admitting it didn't magically present him with a solution.

It was rather depressing how short his list was.

_Buy her flowers,_ was the first thing he'd written, sure that he'd done it for girls when he'd been younger. But it had been a long time since he'd actually had a chance with a woman, and would a woman like the same things that a girl would? And then there was the worry of what sort of flowers Hermione would like, even!

_Take her to dinner_, had been his next bright idea. But what sorts of foods did Hermione eat? She always avoided spicy food in the Great Hall, but that was about as far as his knowledge went. He sat too far away from her at feasts to see her choices, and each other day that they ate together, it was the standard Hogwarts fare.

_Ask her out._

Draco sighed as he crumpled the parchment into a ball, and threw it into his fireplace, watching it burn in satisfaction. It looked like it was time to swallow his pride, and act like a Gryffindor. Dash it all, he was still bloody _rich_, he'd do them all!

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Hermione smiled as she sent out her mixed Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw sixth years. It was… nice, she reflected, to see children being just that: children. With any luck, all of her students would be able to be children, and stay that way for as long as they could. With any luck, they'd never have to fear for their lives, or for their families.

She shook her head, and snorted at her own foolishness. With any luck, indeed! With the Auror department functioning properly, more like! She turned, and entered the small office just off her classroom to collect her things and take them to her rooms for marking later.

_ Click. _

The door to her classroom opening. The wards had to have been disabled for it to open so quietly. Hermione breathed slowly, carefully sliding her wand out of its holster as silently as she could. She pressed herself against the wall behind the door, and pulled it open slowly, letting the heavy wood hide her body.

_Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap._

Footsteps coming towards her. Towards her office. Hermione felt, rather than saw the shadow obscure the crack between door and frame. With a hefty push, Hermione sent the door swinging at the figure, pulling it open again and jumping out to subdue her attacker.

Hermione threw herself bodily at the attacker - surely if they were skilled enough to get past her wards, they were certainly skilled enough to cause damage with their wand, at the very least - feeling the satisfying thump as her fist struck flesh, and they tumbled to the ground.

Hermione didn't let up, using her momentum to help her, she raised a knee which subtly missed, but still struck his hip with a jarring force that was sure to leave them both with bruises.

"Hermio-! oof-! Hermione!" Wheezing breaths. Male voice. "Hermi-! Stop! Please! Herm-!" Sounded… familiar, almost. Familiar criminal? Stalker? Had she been obliviated? Surely there was no way that she could have been- but what if… "Hermione! Look at me!"

Hermione's eyes focused on the man beneath her, his blonde hair, silver-gray eyes…

"Draco," she breathed in realisation. "Oh! Oh Draco! I'm so sorry!" Her arms flew out as she struggled, and scrambled to get up. Her left foot slipped, leaving her falling flat on top of Draco. Her eyes widened as she felt the unmistakable proof that Draco was of the opposite sex, and that he _liked_ the position they were in. Her efforts to stand were redoubled, but unfruitful as Draco's arms draped around her back and flipped them over effortlessly.

He lay above her in a press-up position, a predatory smirk on his face. They stayed perfectly still for a moment, until Draco collapsed into giggles, resting his head against Hermione's shoulder.

"Gods, Hermione, you don't half pack a punch!" He mumbled into her breastbone. "I think I'm gonna have bruises for the rest of my life." He raised his head again, to look into her eyes. Her brow furrowed, and a shaking hand reached up to touch his right cheek.

"Oh, Draco, you're bleeding!" She told him softly. "Let me heal it for you?"

"Ah, I don't think so!" Draco chuckled tauntingly. "I'll be keeping my war wounds as a reminder not to try to ask you out again."

"You were going to ask me out?" Hermione all but squeaked. "And I punched you? Oh, Merlin, I'm so embarrassed…" True to form, a blush spread up and across her cheeks.

"Yeah, I had my perfect little speech planned out too." Draco muttered self-conciously.

"Tell me?" Hermione asked gently, ducking her chin to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"Well, first, I give you the flowers." Draco paused, and looked about the room for a moment. "They're a bit squished, over towards the door to your office. And then I bring you over to your desk. The chocolates are under there… the box looks a bit crushed but I'm sure they'll still taste alright. In my pocket," Draco dropped to an elbow, and leaned to the side to rummage through his robes, finally extracting a piece of ornate parchment, the ribbon torn and the edges bent. "In my pocket, is the details of the restaurant that I booked in Diagon Alley. Then, I tell you that I'll pick you up, at your quarters, on Friday, at around half six. I turn to leave, and then, looking back at you, I ask… _Can I kiss you?_" His eyes met Hermione's, conveying his sincerity.

"No." Hermione replied firmly.

"No?" Draco asked, sighing deeply. "No. Huh, didn't think you'd tell me no." He rolled away from her, onto his back. "You mean I endured that… that _beating_ for just a no? Do I not even rate an explanation?"

"You want an explanation?" Hermione asked, her face appearing above his, cutting into his morose view of the ceiling. "_This _is your explanation…"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Minerva McGonagall frowned as she walked down the second floor corridor on her post-supper rounds. Professors Granger, and Malfoy had been missing from the meal, and she was determined to find them. Clearly Hermione had just gotten distracted with work, as the girl often did. Rounding the corner, she smiled wryly at seeing the Defence door still wide open.

Her smile turned into a frown at seeing a missing Professor lying prostrate on the ground. Not, as one would expect, Hermione, but…

"Mister Malfoy!" Even her heartiest brogue and her most authoritative tones didn't shake the young man from his stupor, the soft smile simply refused to leave his face, even as he turned to look at her.

"She kissed me." He whispered incredulously. "She kissed me." A hand moved up his body to hesitantly brush his lips. The smile, if anything, grew wider.

"In that case, Professor Malfoy, I would suggest you go and kiss her back!" Minerva ordered sternly. As if the idea had only just occurred to the boy, he jumped straight to his feet and ran from the room. Minerva let herself giggle, just a little, at the sight of their most feared Potions Master sprinting full pelt through the school. "Children, still." She smiled fondly.

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Another Saturday, another meeting of the survivors. The group, for the most part, sat in silence awaiting Hermione. Luna held the letter that Hermione had sent to each of them in her hand, reading it over once more, searching for a hidden message that simply wasn't there.

_Luna,_

_ I'm bringing a friend to the meeting this weekend. I know that it will be a shock, but just trust me, please? I promise you that I know exactly what I'm doing, and am in my correct mind._

_ See you soon,_

_ Hermione Granger_

_ xxx_

The door to the room they sat in creaked open, to reveal Hermione's bushy hair, her face turned away from the occupants, towards the friend that obviously stood behind her. The hood was up on his cloak, but from what Luna could see, he wore very well tailored clothes, and walked with an almost regal gait. His skin was pale, paler than hers even, if the hand that clutched Hermione's was any indication.

One final squeeze from Hermione, and the hand let go, swiftly sliding off the hood. His face clearly showed his nerves; lips red from being bitten, eyes flicking from side to side, an odd fragile strength in his stare as he met the gaze of every person seated.

"Hello there, Professor Malfoy." Luna said softly. "It's been a long while since I've seen you. Won't you take a seat?"

Hermione smiled triumphantly at Draco, her raised eyebrow almost spelling out the words 'I told you so'. Once more taking the man's hand, she dragged him to the only two seat left, those at the head of the group.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lovegood." Draco replied politely.

"Oh no, call me Luna!" Luna smiled warmly, and saw her expression mirrored on Ginny's face across from her.

"And call me Ginny." The redhead beamed as the blond repeated her name, adding a greeting, and an open offer of reciprocation. "So, Draco, welcome to the Survivors Club, I guess."

"Hermione wasn't very clear, really, but… What do you do?" He asked, a slight frown on his forehead as if it was a question he had been pondering for some time.

"Why, isn't it obvious?" Luna quirked one side of her mouth upwards. "We're moving on, Draco. We're **moving on**…"

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Well, it all ends here folks! There's a wonderful picture that goes with this story, drawn by one of my best RL friends. We can't quite remember which came first, but this final chapter was most definitely based, in some part on the drawing. You can find it on deviantART, under the name of Gertrude-Lupin, the picture is titled 'Dramione'. Take a look, it's truly beautiful!


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